


Home Front

by thegrrrl2002



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrrrl2002/pseuds/thegrrrl2002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is goofy in love. Written for the lovely sheafrotherdon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Front

Steve is sure every single person on Oʻahu is out driving in their cars, clogging up the roads, forcing him to sit in traffic and wait and wait and wait some more just so he can his damn errands done: stopping at the auto parts store because the Marquis eats fan belts for dinner, running into the dry cleaners to get his suit along with, oh, five or six of Danny's shirts, four ties and three pairs of his slacks. Then it's over to the grocery store for juice, since Danny drank the last of it. And now Steve's convinced that every traffic light on the island is turning red just for him, just so he can sit in traffic with the engine idling and this is not how he wanted to spend his Saturday morning, with clear skies and shining sun and cool ocean breeze. He could be out hiking right now, or catching some waves, or just going for a swim. A peaceful, serene swim, cutting through cool rippling water, no sound except for the water washing over his ears, and maybe the cry of a seagull--

A horn honks behind him at the very moment the traffic light turns green. Steve scowls. “Really?” he says into the rear view mirror. He shifts the truck into drive and guns the engine. He's sounding more and more like Danny every day, and that worries him. 

When he finally, _finally_ gets home, Danny's Camaro is in the driveway but Danny is nowhere to be seen. Steve manages to get from the truck through the door and into the house in one trip, the fan belt tucked under his arm, the grocery bags cradled against his chest, the clothes hangers dangling from his fingers. The plastic wrappers hanging over the clothing slither under his feet, threatening to trip him up as he tries to shut the door with his left foot. 

“Danny,” he calls out. “Could use a hand here.” 

No answer. Steve rolls his eyes. Sure, Danny has his back, but apparently that's only at work and doesn't carry over into their off hours. He drapes the clothes over the couch and heads for the kitchen, deposits the bags and the fan belt on the counter then peers out the back door. 

“Yo, Daniel?” 

The lanai is empty. Steve frowns. He checks his phone, but there are no new texts. Shrugging, he heads back through the house, grabbing the dry cleaning before heading up the stairs. 

The dampness in the air hits him before he reaches the top of the stairs--the aftermath of a Danny Williams shower. A quick check of the bathroom confirms his suspicions--wet towel on the floor, pile of dirty gym clothes behind the door, tile walls dripping with condensation. 

Thoroughly irritated, Steve turns and pushes open the bedroom door. 

And finds Danny, stretched out on his bed. Sleeping flat on his stomach, face tucked into a pillow, wearing only a towel wrapped snug around his waist. 

Steve's breath catches in his throat and he stops, momentarily spellbound. He forgets what he was about to say, because right now Danny is golden, his skin bathed in sunlight from his shoulders down along the curve of his back, to the gentle slope of his ass. His hair is damp, curling haphazardly at the nape of his neck and Steve can't stop staring, at the steady rise and fall of Danny's breathing, the curve of his ear, the line of his jaw. Danny is beautiful, honest-to-goodness beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes Steve want to write poetry, or paint a picture. Which is about as ridiculous as it gets.

And feeling like this, it should be ridiculous too--the happy ache in his chest, it makes no sense at all, but nothing about him and Danny makes any sense, honestly. Except that traffic and wet towels pale in comparison to how important it is that Danny is here, right where he belongs. 

“Hey,” Danny says softly, eyes open now. He blinks at Steve, frowns a little. “Must have fallen asleep.”

Steve nods, still too awestruck to speak, too full of unexpected joy, too _whatever_. Everything, maybe. 

With a small grunt, Danny stretches, arms burrowing under the pillow, toes wiggling, back arched, muscles taut and then he melts down onto the mattress with a sigh, utterly, irresistibly content. 

“What,” Danny asks, eyebrows raised as he peers out from behind an arm, “is with that face?” 

Steve drops the dry cleaning on the floor and climbs onto the bed, kicking off his slippers as he stretches out next to Danny. “You,” he says. 

“I made your face get all goofy like that?” Danny's grinning now, eyes crinkled at the corners.

“You make my face do a lot of things.” Steve leans in and nuzzles Danny's cheek, rubbing his lips over smooth, freshly shaved skin, then licks Danny's neck. 

Danny laughs, rolls back onto his side and wraps an arm around Steve, pulling him close. “I've seen some of those things, with your face. They're not always pretty, but this one? I approve.” He presses a soft kiss to Steve's lips. “Where have you been, anyway?”

“I don't know.” Steve kisses Danny, running a hand down Danny's back. He has only a vague recollection of a slow moving car and crowded shops. “On Mars, I think.” 

Because it feels just that far away, now that he's back home. 

A small snort. “All righty then.” 

Danny's smiling so Steve has to kiss him again, lazy, sweet kisses as he touches Danny, fingers gliding over sun-warmed skin, hand cupping Danny's shoulders before smoothing down his back and curling over his hip. Somehow the towel gets unwrapped from Danny's waist--funny how that kind of thing can happen. He strokes Danny's sleek cock, fingers exploring the shape and feel of it and all the while they're still kissing, legs tangling together. Steve is in no hurry and for once, there's no rush to get anywhere. He's perfectly happy to stay stopped at this golden light for the rest of the afternoon and judging by the soft noises he's making, Danny agrees one hundred percent.


End file.
